The Apartment

OH BOY, GUYS. I thought I was good, but I didn’t realize how hard it was going to be to move into a new apartment without the guy I spent almost five years with. Alone. Just me. 

The night before last I was exhausted, overwhelmed, and a late night trip to Home Depot was necessary. I almost starting crying in the pipe fittings isle. I felt alone, scared, and stressed. 

I feel better off and on. One moment I’m excited for my new makeup table that used to be my entry table, and the next I’m feeling horribly heartbroken that I won’t be tripping over his behemoth shoes anymore (this is craziness, as who would miss this…).

Yesterday, my aunt, mom and good friend  (plus her hubby) helped me move my new bed and couch into my apartment. The presence of loved ones in my new place helped immensely with making it feel more like home. It also helps as I put more and more of my things inside. 

It’ll get better. It just takes time. Time is a bitch, though.

Here is a video I took the night I got my keys. I’ll video again when everything is in place. 

What’s Going On 

Almost. Almost!

I figured I’d write a little update on things. I know that if you’re not consistently writing, you lose followers. Now, we wouldn’t want that! 

Tonight, after what seems like a lifetime, I get the keys to my new apartment! The landlord had the carpets shampooed, the walls painted, and had a cleaning person come in. It’s been a long time since I last moved into a new place. This seems very thorough and it’s much appreciated. The last apartment I moved into I had to clean for a full day before I could move in. So, this’ll be nice! Move in ready! 

My emotions have been riding a roller coaster of epic proportions. One minute I’m excited for the future, and I feel like a strong independent woman who can do anything. The next, I’m freaking out about having to put my bed together by myself, and that, surely, I’ll die alone amid my myriad cats. 

I guess this is life-the constant battle between being happy and feeling at peace and sadness and feeling anxious about everything. The only good part of sadness is that it is needed to feel the good things in life. 

Stay tuned for video and pictures! 

Also, stay tuned for a personal challenge that rivals all of my previous failed challenges! Oooooh! 

Adulting Sucks #4,562

Guys, I found (and subsequently “won”-huge competition) an apartment! The best part is that it’s in my most beloved part of town! In fact, I’m only moving three blocks away! I can’t wait to share pictures once it’s finally mine to move into! I would have videoed, but the current tenant was there, moving out, when the landlord showed it. I will say, it’s definitely an upgrade-granite counter tops FTW! 

Since I’m now broke-I’m now paying double the rent-I’ve decided I better get my act together and actually follow a budget. 

For the longest time I thought I was budgeting. I have a detailed list of the bills I pay each month, even down to groceries and “fun money”. When I pay a bill or buy groceries, I mark “paid”. When the charge goes through, I delete the item from my list. This process has served me well for the past seven or so years. 

Or, has it? 

Even though I was keeping track of my money, I always seemed to be down to pennies and pocket lint a week before payday. 


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Every month I would wonder where in the hell my money would go. As a teacher, I’m no millionaire, but I make a decent wage. It was really a mystery. 

Well, I solved the mystery.


Fucking Starbucks. 

I.spent.$100.at.Starbucks.in.under.a.month. 

The month of June isn’t even over and I’ve spent more than $100 JUST at damn Starbucks. I knew I had a certain addiction, but $5 here, $8 there didn’t seem so bad. 

Well, thanks to Mint, I’ve been able to come face-to-face with the very reason I never have any money. 

I don’t budget $100 for coffee, so it’s no wonder my “budget” wasn’t really budgeting at all. 

It’s going to take some time to get the hang of Mint, and that I need to live within my means. 


QUIT YELLING AT ME. 

I hope ya’ll will be patient with me while I take you on yet another journey. This one involves not spending my paycheck the day I get it as if my life depended on it. I have got to be more frugal and responsible. I am 33, for fucks sake! Here we go! 


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But then…


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Independence Day

I think most have surmised that there’s been some recent changes in my life. I almost went off to England. Alone. And now I’m apartment searching. Alone. 

Yup. 

I’m single and ready to mingle. 

Just kidding. I’m single and ready for some peace, and some much needed soul searching. 

Right now my priority is finding a place to live. 

It has not been easy due to some uncertainty surrounding the whens, hows, and the that-costs-how-muchs. The rental market where I live right now is slim and what you see is what you get. If you don’t jump right on the first half decent place you see, it’s gone the next day. I’m not exactly too picky, but I also don’t want to live in my city’s equivalent of Compton.

So, I’ll just say it’s been…interesting, the search for an apartment. I think I’ll add disappointing, scary, and fun, just to mix it up.

Yesterday, I got to tour a studio apartment in one of the oldest complexes in the city. The vintage charm was just oozing out of the Art Deco windows. There were even little milk delivery boxes. I couldn’t even. 



The apparent charm and ideal location were the only two pros with this place. There were holes in the walls, the lobby and hallway carpets were filthy, and the wood was just being left to rot. It was sad.

The search for the perfect apartment is, of course, disappointing because $425 a month in one of the most coveted areas is, in fact, too good to be true. 

Also, it’s scary to think that someone actually thinks anyone sane would  want to rent a place that houses one of the seven gates of hell. There was a crawl space door located in the closest that went forever into the abyss of your worst nightmares. *NERP. 

I love looking at houses and apartments, even when they end up being a big “nope”. I don’t know if it’s a woman thing, but every potential home I go into is an empty canvas that I can envision putting my mark on. Unless it’s scary and crack den-ish (I’ve never been in one, but I think it would be hard to work, decoratively, around the crack). 

Here’s a video I took of the apartment from yesterday. 


For some reason, my voice sounds kind of Valley Girl-ish. Forgive me. 

Wish me luck on my continued search! 

​*Thanks, Lori! 

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Decision Made

Well, I did it. I sent the email declining the job offer. Before anyone tells me I just lost an incredible opportunity, let me first be clear about a few things:

1. I’ve learned throughout this process that I need to stop taking to heart how others feel when what I really need to be doing is listening more intently to my own beat.

2. It’s really fucking expensive to move to another country, and until you know my finances intimately, you don’t really know. You know?

I don’t mean to sound rude, but it’s really, really hard to make such a huge decision when left and right you’re told that money doesn’t matter, or that you’re wussing out because you don’t want to be going down the road to bankruptcy town. All of my young adult years I went about my business as if money didn’t matter and it led to serious problems. I cannot continue down that path.

Continue reading “Decision Made”

“Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death”

We (as in my students and I) have been learning about the 13 British colonies and the road to revolution. Yesterday, we read about the Stamp, Tea, Sugar, and Quartering Acts. “No taxation without representation”, yo.

A colleague suggested playing a game that would entail taxing our students for certain things, like using a piece of paper, eating an apple, borrowing a pencil, etc. Each tax would fall under the acts they learned about: Stamp: “Pay me for that paper and the holes on the LEFT for the umpteenth time!”; Tea: “You want a drink of water? Pay up!”; Sugar: “Do you really think you need to eat graham crackers right after lunch? Well, then you are gonna pay.”; Quartering: “You wanna move to see the process grid? Well, it’s gonna cost.”

Can you already tell that this was way too much fun for me? Oh, it gets way better.

*evil laugh*

Continue reading ““Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death””

Memories

 

Holly
One of the crazy bishes I lived and loved with. Also, back before I shaved my man arms!

“Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose” The Wonder Years

We all remember our first taste of freedom-that time in your life when the tight grip of the metaphorical fist loosens up and you break free. The time in your life when you feel no fear in saying goodbye, because what awaits you is too exciting to feel homesick. I remember that time vividly, and wish I could relive it on a daily basis. It was a time of momentous change in my life. I was single for the first time in years. and my life was decidedly going to be all about me for once. I was young, carefree and I no longer had to hear my father say 100 times a day, “Rinse your dish when you are done.” If I didn’t want to rinse my dish, guess what? I didn’t have to (I did, however, come to find that a sink full of dirty dishes pretty much smells like death, so I ended up just rinsing the damn dish). It was an indescribable feeling to be on my own for once. I don’t think I could properly explain in words the way it felt, but you all know. You know.

My first roommates were my two best friends. The first night in our apartment was spent drinking vodka straight out of the bottle while we watched Santa Clause 2. Oh yes, we knew how to party. The next night was spent drinking half a bottle of watermelon Pucker, because the other half I spilled on the carpet. Best friend number dos made her famous waffles and poached eggs for dinner. We ate A LOT of waffles and poached eggs. I am 100% certain it was not because waffle ingredients and eggs were cheap; it was because those were the only two things in the world she could make (pretty impressive if you ask me. I still have to read the macaroni and cheese box for instructions). To this day, I do not know how we survived on our diet. The only liquid in our apartment was the alcoholic variety and the only food found in the fridge was an odd jar of pickles and some butter. Nutritious, yeah? The third night in our first place I found out that a whole roll of toilet paper generally does not flush well. I also found out that if Daddy and his plunger aren’t there, you have to do it yourself. Also, an over-flowing toilet travels fast…The fourth night in our apartment we broke our dryer. Let me tell you, a panty chandelier is quite the conversation piece.

Oh and…we thought we were so damn cool. We found a convenience store that would sell us booze and then we would go home with our prize and play drunk Skipbo. We would drag main in my ‘86 Mazda 626, with purple tinted windows, blaring Adam Sandler’s “Piece of Shit Car”. We thought we were hilarious. We would blast music and dance half naked on the coffee table (Poor coffee table, RIP). We would get in huge fights, throw clothes, keyboards and play mariachi music to piss each other off, and then the next day we would laugh at our stupidity. We would forget to pay the bills and rack up the credit cards. We were young and stupid, but we were wild and liberated. Yes, I still feel the brunt of my young stupidity, but, damn, was it the time of my life.

As I said before, I was single and ready to mingle. I met new love interests and had fun going on myriad dates. I began to feel like a new, sexier version of me. I developed a swagger that said, “Yeah, you can’t touch this!”  I got inked and pierced and said, “How do you like this?” to people who told me I couldn’t be me. I rebelled. I danced. I lived.

I recall, vividly, a walk around the marina on an early spring day, a few months after day 1 of freedom. The air was cool and crisp, but the sun was warm. I was recalling all the good times spent with my new self, my friends-my roommates, and I felt this overwhelming feeling of complete, total, utter, unadulterated happiness. So, this is what it feels like to be independent and fancy-free!

I can thank my wild ways during this time for being a college graduate at the ripe old age of 27, but with no regrets. It was worth it. I still love the girls I shared that time with. They belong to a time in my life that has a special place in my heart, right up on the shelf full of “never forgets”. I still can’t help laughing whenever I hear “Everybody in the Club Gettin’Tipsy”  by Chingy, and think of how we would shake our bums to that song in our socks and panties, with twinkling eyes, full of big dreams.

Vacay Babay

If you didn’t infer from my last post, or you missed the one about my sister, you don’t know I’m on vacation. 

So, yeah, VACATION.

I know I feel bummed when some of my favorite bloggers disappear for too long (they probably work, or have actual, real-life stuff to do), so I figured I’d make it clear that I haven’t given up on Fatty McCupcakes! Don’t you love how I’m assuming I might be one of someone’s favorites? Oy! 

I’ve been having a blast, and I’ve been experiencing all that I can. It’s all fodder for new blog posts, of course. Most importantly, though, I’ve put the iPhone and iPad somewhat away and I’ve just lived, watched, breathed, and engaged. It’s been refreshing as all hell.

I’m still vacationing, so I don’t anticipate an actual post until I get back and sleep for a whole day (jet lag is worse as you get older, I swear)! 

Hopefully some vacation pictures will keep my loyal followers satiated enough until I get back. Don’t give up on me, guys! I love you all. 

  Goodbye land, goodbye sanity, goodbye lunch. Flying gets you to cool places, but it’s nerve-wracking as fuck.

  What you do after traveling for 9 hours and you’re ravenously hungry, and you’re alone in a big city-for the first time (more on my newfound independence soon). Room service, baby! 

  Obviously, I tracked down a cupcakery while in Philadelphia. It’s like my fat gut has a built-in honing device for baked goods. 

  Some resident of the City of Brotherly Love loved their city so much, they felt the need to tag an iconic landmark. Way to go, asshat! It’s why we can’t have nice things *hangs head in disgrace*.

  If I could make one suggestion/comment/bit of feedback to whoever planned the structure housing the Liberty Bell, it’s that the natural light coming from behind the bell makes it really hard to capture the famous crack. Oh, you’re just supposed to reverently view and move on? Gotcha…*slowly puts selfie stick back in bag*

  Residents of the East Coast are different people entirely. I had never seen anything like this before. Apparently, I’M the weird one for not being familiar with edible curved manhood. BTW it is NOT like Bologna at all. 

 After a nice little jaunt through Delaware, we made it to Ocean City, MD. We promptly put our feet in the surf. Because ocean. 

  We drove all the way to Maryland to eat at a Jamaican-themed restaurant, complete with real palm trees and jerk chicken-everything, just so I can show people this picture and say I went somewhere exotic.  

  Yes, the views are priceless, but our $300 a night hotel room is…well…upon getting a towel, the towel rack promptly fell off the wall. Classy. I simply cannot wait to write my Yelp and Trip Advisor reviews. 

  Our piggy toes are obviously genetic. You’re welcome.